


WOY Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 - You're the Greatest

by 3amepiphany



Series: Woy Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 [10]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The least that neon muppet could have done was send her off with a bottle of Orbble Juice, but nooooooo. Fruit don't get you anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WOY Mini-Fic-A-Thon 2016 - You're the Greatest

**Author's Note:**

> http://omegalovaniac.tumblr.com/post/147164943999/for-the-woy-fic-a-thon-if-you-have-time-loved

The Space Coaster was one of the first things back open, and up and running through the galaxy as it came back to life. It needed to be. Crew knew the importance of this now that the threat was gone and did their best to get at least one train going in a few of the most-used dimensional directions so that the refugee return efforts could start. The station closest to the center of the galaxy was thrumming with an excitement that it hadn’t seen since its first operational days as passports were stamped and timetables were lit up brightly again, and residents were going home to restart and rebuild.

And Dom hated watching every minute of it.

She’d been stuck there for three days now, picking pockets and having an incredibly hard time of it. Too many people knew who she was and it was making things extremely difficult - what she needed was a plain, everyday, inconspicuous getup instead of the tattered and burnt remains of her overly-recognizable conquering outfit.

A few times some people did stop to hand her some credits, but they all would say, “It never hurts to help.” The first time it happened she was sitting on a bench outside of one of the restroom enclaves.

The short lady had done a double-take while her husband was checking their departure time, and then tugged on his shirtsleeve until he turned around. He’d given her a very stern look, and then given Dom an even angrier one. But the lady opened her purse and fished out a little change and a few whole credits, and came across the crowd on parquet to approach her with a gentle smile. Dom rolled her eyes and tried to remain as nonchalant as she could, sort of just draped over the bench like she was there on purpose, her frazzled hair failing to hide her face. “It’s not a lot,” she’d said. “But it never hurts to help. I hope you’ve got some family that you can get back to.”

She replied, “Yeah, they’d been worried about me for a while. Guess they weren’t wrong to do that.”

Dom had relied on the singular food vendor that would feed her a meal for free, and she was growing tired of that because the guy would not stop trying to talk philosophical ethics into her as she enjoyed the shawarma he’d gently prepared for her. But he knew the little she managed to scrape up was needed, and she did, too. The way he put it was that everyone was in the same boat, and it was better to help than to hinder.

“Have you figured out where you are headed yet?” he asked her on the evening of the fourth day in heavily accented Universal as she came around the corner by his stall, slinking like a cat.

“Eh,” she responded. She really needed to become incognito, first.

“Still not enough for a ticket?” He opened the steaming bin on his cart and pulled out a hot piece of flatbread, placing it in a wrapper.

“Not for where I’m going.”

He regarded her with a wry look for a moment, and then shook his head. “Everyone is clinging so tightly to what they have left, it seems.”

She didn’t know if he was referring to the botched pocket job she’d tried earlier in the day or not, where the gentleman she had targeted saw her coming a light year away and chided her loudly, and she’d responded with a threat, which everyone around them saw as empty and laughed at her for it. “So it seems,” she told the vendor, watching him fill the bread to bursting with meat and vegetables, and a generous dollop of sauce. He handed it right to her, not bothering to wrap it up tightly, because they both knew it wasn’t going to be contained without some sort of mess - it was hot, blazingly hot and it was welcome in her hands. She dug in. He turned to help another customer, who eyed her suspiciously the whole time they waited for their order, watching her eat. And she ate slowly, enjoying the meal and enjoying the discomfort of the person she stared right back at.

The vendor launched into a story about what this galaxy had been like before the freakishly silly Villain Leaderboard had become the litmus for daily safety and stability. She slid down against the wall behind them and listened quietly, stopping to ask what the obsession with celebrity villains was here, because that was new and weird, and she never understood it.

It was the first time she’d engaged with the currency exchange. He was surprised. He handed her a cup of fries, and answered her question.

The ticketing booth staff had kept their eyes on her in the manner of well trained sentries, because they knew that security and safety staff were a yell away but she seemed to be harmless. Their efforts were a little more focused on the crowds at the moment. Has-been villains in this galaxy were, on record, non-threat status. She was just another one. So when the Shoemaker Courier Service agent arrived at the main booth with a parcel in hand for her, and then promptly disappeared because “High-profile deliveries were never their Nutrimatic Cup of Tea,” the staffers sort of argued amongst themselves for a bit about who would be the person to go and find her and deliver it to her.

Finally, though, a small brave soul said, “Look, I’ll do it, but someone needs to cover me this weekend, I’m not kidding, I need to help get my mother settled back in at home.”

As she left with the package, the staff argued over who would carry the extra shift.

Dominator was right where the young ticket seller knew she’d be, having dinner and listening to Naf the shawarma guru talk endlessly about the galaxy that the maniac had just tried to destroy. She approached her very brusquely and held out the package, waited for a break in the conversation and said, “Delivery just dropped off for you.” When Dominator didn’t reach for it, she set it down next to her and walked off. As soon as she was far enough away, her pace sped up until she was practically running.

Dom, with a mouth full of food, looked down at the box, and then up at the vendor.

Naf shrugged and said, “You ought to open it.”

She carefully wrapped up what was left of her meal and set it down, wiping her hands on the raggedy edges of her skirt, and then reached for the parcel. The crappy handwriting made it hard for her to figure out who it was from, but she wondered if it wasn’t Wander. Tearing through the tape with her sharp nails and cracking open the box, though, she let out a small gasp, and then a grumble.

“Oh, now there’s a familiar face. Talk about celebrity villains.”

She pulled out a bunch of band merchandise - a couple of shirts in some random sizes, some keychains and sticky stretch toys in the shape of lightning bolts. A coffee mug, a tote bag, a baseball cap. A poster. Oh, grop, the poster.

She unrolled it carefully and saw that it was autographed, “To my GREATEST fan”. She started laughing. Dom turned it around to show the vendor and he nodded. “Yup. That’s Lord Hater,” he said simply, with a grin.

It showed Hater, shirtless and in all his ivory-white “glory”, handcuffed to a chain-link fence. She just could not keep from laughing. Digging through the box a bit more, there were also some CD’s, a pair of cheap-o sunglasses, and a few other small items. A lot of junk. This was fair, she felt. She couldn’t even really be angry.

She unfolded the largest shirt and wondered if she could re-fashion it into a dress.


End file.
